


Don't Stop Believin'

by SlightlyMighty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Drunk Hermione Granger, Enjoy my hot mess, F/M, Fanatical Fic's New Years Competition 2021, Fish, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, I blame the best podcast Fanatical Fics and Where to Find Them, M/M, New Year's Resolutions, Podcast: Fanatical Fics and Where to Find Them, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, This is a dumpsterfire of crack, Toast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28701078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyMighty/pseuds/SlightlyMighty
Summary: What if Harry didn’t become an Auror and was supremely lazy instead?Written for Fanatical Fics’s New Years Competition 2021WC: Max 1500Character: Member of the OrderObject: FishTheme: New Year, New _____
Relationships: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode/Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: Fanatical Fics’s New Year’s Competition 2021





	Don't Stop Believin'

“Alright everyone - around the room, I want to hear resolutions!” shouts a slightly intoxicated Ron. 

It’s about 20 minutes to midnight and time for the crew to start our most and least favorite tradition - resolutions. Neville’s really the only one who ends up keeping his resolution, but that’s only because he’s afraid his gran will find out if he fails and tan his hide. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, Nev still lives with his gran. I’ve stopped asking how old she is, woman never ages, that one. 

“I’m going to” hiccup “read ‘Pride, Prejudice, and” hiccup “Zombies’ in ten different” hiccup “languages!” Hermione struggles, promptly collapsing into a puddle of giggling 30 something. 

Merlin, my friends are bloody lightweights. 

“Good on ya Herms!” I shout encouragingly in her direction as Millie peels her body, limp with giggles, off the floor and onto the couch. 

“Circe’s tit, Potter! What’d you put in this?!” Pansy asks Ron. Man, she must really be plastered. 

“Nothing but the finest for you, love!” I respond, causing her to whip around, then slowly look between myself and Ron. Taking advantage of Pansy’s confusion, Ron decides to swoop in for an early midnight kiss. Pansy shrugs and leans into it, it’s not like they weren’t on track to end up locked in my coat closet anyway. 

“Okay, so Hermione’s got the book thing, Pansy’s resolution is clearly to dry out, good luck with that mate. Ron, I’m deciding your resolution for you, propose to Pansy by this time next year, yeah?” I say, smirking as my friend releases Pansy and glares in my direction. I shrug. It’s time, they’ve been pussyfooting around the issue for years now. 

“Alright clever man,” Ron starts, “you’re making resolutions for us? Then we’re making a resolution for you, aren’t we?” I scan the room and notice eyes rolling and heads nodding. 

“Aw come on guys, you know my resolution, this is the year! I can feel it, this is the year I’m finally going to transform!” As the words come out of my mouth, I already know they aren’t going to buy it...again. 

Truly, it started as a really good resolution...18 years ago. Our first New Year’s celebration after MoldyFarts killed himself on his backfired curse, my resolution was simple! Become an animagus to honor the memory of my dad and godfather. Cool, right? Mate, it’s not easy. The Marauders had to have been bloody geniuses to pull this off while still at school, and Peter had to have sold his soul to ‘ole Moldy back then because there’s no way he figured it out without divine intervention. 

So that’s been the running resolution since I was 17. Complete the transformation. Apparently the crew no longer felt that was ‘valid’. 

“All in favor of Scarhead getting a job this year, say aye!” Malfoy offered. 

“Oh come on, you all know I can’t work on account of my…”

“Harry if you say on account of your fame everyone in this room is going to pelt you with stinging hexes until you pass out,” Neville said somewhat strongly. 

“Okay mate, okay...it really is always the quiet ones, isn’t it?” I mutter to myself. “Alright blokes and birds, this year, yours truly is going to get a job - happy?” I try not to cringe as wild cheering erupts around me. 

January ends, and I swear I applied to a few places. Granted they were muggle places and I really wasn’t qualified but I TRIED. I can’t help it if the British government thought I “wasn’t quite right” for MI5. Their loss. Whatever. 

In February, I applied to the Prophet. Apparently that doesn’t count since technically the Zabinis own the Prophet and technically I’m a Zabini by marriage. I argue that kind of owning a paper counts as working. I’m overruled. 

March, April, and May, I dedicate myself to training for the UK Quidditch Combine but alas, I have a nasty crash that lands me in Mungos the week of the Combine. Shit luck, really, if you think about it. I’d have been a shoe-in. 

June and July are vacation months, only suckers work then, or look for work for that matter. Zabini and I spend time in Italy eating gelato and fuc...uhh...and having a nice time together. 

August hits and really, that’s the start of the holidays practically which means New Years is right around the corner. I give up at that point. White flag waved in the air, I throw in the towel on the job hunt. 

September 1st rolls around and I find myself, shockingly, with a newfound sense of determination. I’m going to attempt the transformation again. Freshly 36, it’s time, once and for all. I brew the bloody potion, hold the stupid mandrake leaf under my tongue for a month, do the worthless meditations. Really, I’m as ready as one can be. 

That brings us to today. It’s October 31st, perfect day to do some blood cult ritual moon magic and all that crap, right? Tonight is the night though, in all seriousness, I feel more prepared than I did even back when I was in my late teens and early 20’s and actually was trying at this. The only problem is my form. Every bit of literature on animagus transformations says I should know what I am by now, but it’s just not coming. Every time I hit that sweet spot in my meditation, my vision goes almost black, murky, I can’t feel my arms or legs, I can’t hear, taste, or smell anything. It’s awful and I have to be doing something wrong. But oh well, I suppose we’ll find out here sooner or later. 

Zabini insisted on coming with me. He says it’s because he’s a good husband, but I say it’s so he can laugh at me when I fail. Typical. 

Three hours into my meditation and something...feels...not quite right. Four hours and breathing starts to get hard. At the five hour mark, the moon is full above me, and I finally begin to feel something shift deep inside my magic. I try not to panic, instead relaxing into the sensation. 

*POP*

I can’t breathe, I can’t see, where are my hands WHERE ARE MY HANDS MERLIN’S SAGGY TESTICLES WHAT THE BLOODY HELL I’M DYING THESE FUCKING RESOLUTIONS ARE GOING TO…

*SPLASH*

Oh….oh that’s much better. I take in a deep gulp of crisp air. Oh, that’s quite nice, really! Opening my eyes again, I take a peak around, murky...why is the world murky...where are the trees? I look up to the moon and it’s obscured by a film of some sort...next to it is another moon like shape...I can make out a panicked looking face staring back at me. I think I hear something that sounds vaguely like “FUCK FUCK FUCK HARRY! Harry can you hear me?! Fuck he’s a FUCKING fish! What the actual FUCK! HOLD ON HARRY, I’M GOING TO GO FETCH MCGONAGALL!” before he runs off. 

I shrug, well, as much as a fish can shrug, I suppose. It’s not so bad, really. The water feels nice. I see a tentacle creep out from behind a rock a bit further into the lake. 

“Hello?” I inquire. 

“Hello?” I hear back. The giant squid was slowly coming closer. 

“Hi there! I’m Harry. Mind if I share your lake for a bit? I’m a new animagus and honestly, I’m not sure how to get back to being human again.” 

“Hi Harry, I’m Regulus. If you figure out how to become a human again, I’d love to know. Been stuck like this for bloody ages. Every time I get close enough to try and ask a student or professor about my predicament, they just throw toast at me!” 

“Regulus, as in Regulus Black?! Oh boy, I’ve gotta hear this story. How’d you get stuck as a squid?!”

“Well, you’ve heard of the Dark Lord, horcruxes, and inferi, right? Have you ever heard that extreme stress and fear can push a person into their animagus form? No? Well, sit back, kid. Have I got a story for you…”


End file.
